The Bedite Borrows

Harley Holland

No matter how much we cleaned the rooms and scrubbed the floors I could never escape that jittering restlessness I had as a child when visiting my grandad. Outside of the semi-detached castle my memories of him are cherished. Sitting at the head of the table at the pubs we would visit for Sunday roast, letting his hand get wet from the frosted glass of his second Guinness in his paws, as he played babysitter and the fool. But inside his castle, amongst all his familiar things, the mask would drop. I could never escape that feeling of unease since he slapped me. After that when visiting I would sit still on the edge of the sofa. Accept a biscuit and cup of tea. Tell him how school – college – work was.  Then wait for that thirty minutes to go by before I made my excuses. He’d nod and…

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Execution by evolution

Your ideologies hang by a tangled thread.
6,000 years of life they said.
Yet in the ground and in the tar.
Lies the truth (will out) like god’s memoir.
To bring about his own destruction.
For amber shows of life’s reduction.
And kills those narrow minded thoughts.
By adding to the six, a lot more noughts.

Seahorse

The Saturn rings look like halos above you.
Don’t move, you look divine.
Around your feet the seahorses play, kicking up moon dust memories.
You find me, deep down in the Mariana trench, decaying like an old wreck.
Do not ask me to play hide and seek now, I do not know the universe as well as you.
1, 2, 3, 4…..Comets shoot across my sky, turning the blackness to fire.
I’m blinded and momentarily lost.
You paralyse me with your tongue, licking sweet sensations.
Then flicking me with words that sink in, deep into the bloodstream.
My nakedness parades in full as I stroll across the moon.
Swim to the ocean floor, swim forever more in the sea that seems beyond tranquil.
8, 9, 10….ready or not.
You found me, just north of Neptune wearing my own crown.
You say it suits you better, everything always does.
I diminish in ill-fitting clothes of the emperor. Falling into threadbare solitude.
Will the trident ever be tested? How much blood needs to flow into these craters to satisfy?
Throw me back to the tide and cast your net further afar.
Let the oceans pull you away, so I never let you plunge my Atlantis into dismay.
My pyramids will be forever mine alone, a place I can go to weep and smile.
Watching the earth follow the moon.

Theatre for god

A vantage point appears.
Sweet retrograded development.
The circle of a life, returning to where it came.
Return to shed some skin.
Dispose a sin that was trapped like a bird in a cage.
These lungs are full of alpine air.
Yet the breath is that of god.
With eyes that shine with a light of a creator.
Marvelling at his own work.
To motion an intent, is to peel back the curtain.
To slip inside the mind, is to speak another truth.
Barefoot and broken, weathered and open.
The state does not matter, for the audience can no longer see.
All this is for God, and sweet mother earth.
Rumbling in a third act that threatens a resolve.
But let us speak not of happy endings or peace.
The story is still unwritten. And the parts have yet to be filled.
What is known of the end, is that it starts a new beginning.
For we live to hear the sound of god’s applause.

Seismic Activity (cataclysmic love)

Raw Earth Ink

In the morning she lay, peaceful as she did, the grasses and trees which took root within her skin stretched toward the sun. The verdant greens of fresh life covered her and she rested, calm.

She felt a breeze run across her hilltops and she shivered. A downward pressure and a shift in temperature. The breeze gusted and became a gale as the sky darkened above her. She shivered again, more violently.

An explosion of movement as birds of every size and color burst aloft. She raised her arm in an attempt to silently call them back. A yawning abyss opened. Many four-legged creatures were swallowed. The sky became darker and then a FLASH! and a deep rumbling.

The birds flew fast. She saw the whites in the eyes of the deer. Rabbits burrowed deeper. Foxes ran. She turned to stop them from fleeing, begging them to take solace in…

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Sparkle

Placing hands on such skin.
Wishing to dive right in.
And swim, in the soul full of diamonds.
I broke you out amber.
Pulled away the tar and thick oil.
Which stained my hands and heart.
One kiss pulls me under.
One word lifts me up.
The vibrations are clear, and stardust tells no lies.
For heaven assumed.
Once prayed and pried out of the sky.
I hold and cherish like a precious jewel.
Sparkle.
Dazzle.
And blind the light which banishes the dark.
Such unearthed treasure.
I keep you inside my bones.
To keep away the cancer.

Howl

Simple static in my veins.
Tears tumbling with the rains.
And inside the heart, a wooded growl.
Of a beast kept chained, a tempered howl.
With lungs that heave in kisses fleeting.
And souls that take ungodly beatings.
From love’s sad battles and passion’s war.
Washing up on forgiveness shore.
Soaking wet and freezing cold.
Left by a love grown tired and old.
Yet in the beast there’s lies a spark.
To ignite the cave and banish the dark.
And once more take a hopeful view.
That love saves the day.
And that I still have you.

Grand design

Running from the moment.
Away from such seeping pain.
Setting sights on the hills, disappearing into completely.
Far from you now, though I see you from up here.
Up into the rains and the breath of the mountain.
I stand on the edge and look up. The black rain falls on my face.
I swallow the sky and spit out the stars.
Raining them down upon you.
I stay here far too long, until I no longer know who you are.
Memories hang off me like vines in the amazon.
The animals of self-loathing crawl in these branches.
Tears fall that weld me to the stone. Moss begins to grow over my flesh.
I could not keep the promise I made.
A funeral procession trundles up the path below.
Laying rest to a soul who knew nothing but how to leave.
Their final exit, left all with destruction behind as they now carry his bones skyward.
I watch and listen to their dirges. Only I am to blame.
God help him.
God help me as I learn to say goodbye.

Interstellar insights

The world opens, the moon shines down like a second sun.
Highlighting the scars of the earth.
I sense you and smell the enthusiasm.
Every day is mine to win, each interaction a snapshot in time.
It’s not how we fall, but how we stand that matters.
The heart of the matter.
The rub, the centre; the deep filled gooey splatter of time.
Stretching away like a blurring desert.
I step stone towards the unknown, letting go of uncertainty.
Restriction dropping, heart opening foolishness of youth and wisdom.
I pull you out of the cave, bring you into the light.
Dazzled by your brilliance, and mesmerised by sight.
Too long have we lingered on the dark side of the moon.
Freezing in the ill commitment to abstain.
Come, take my hand and let us drink in the solar flares. Turn the moon to gold.
Get high on the mercury rising and dance into the fire, singing our solar song.

Ruin

Blaze the craze which rips through the world.
Such times to be alive.
Born from the birds which fly south for winter.
Pecking at the moon.
Which idea is now spun from younger lips?
For children withhold such commitment.
We welcome you to the future.
Putting your ear to the soil to hear the earth murmur.
A wailing in the wind and the wild.
A sorrow swimming in the sea.
Yesterday holds up such devastation.
Sugar coat that history, and open up forever.
Cough out lies across your coffee cups.
But listen to no one.
Wipe the heathens across the walls.
A boy, a girl caught in such crossfire.
Scrub those bloody hands, that crimson mark.
Fading from red to orange.
Another one. Another one, another one.
Falls.
As the world turns and burns.
Points of no return, distant in the mirror now.

Subside & soar

Falling down the waterfall, shaken out of grace.
Sliding, spiraling and collapsing. Leaving nothing but a trace.
Tumbling down speedily, in disgust from your eyes.
Crawling out of this bitter, purgening demise.
Escaping into nothingness, fleeing into dreams.
Tasting the fruit of freedom. Splitting from the seams.
Moving now a certain way, to expand these wings.
Unfurling fraying feathers, precious aerodynamic things.
Falling once again, from ledges beyond time.
Saying goodbye to shadows, and the ghosts that haunt this mind.
Realisation of collapse, braking bark from the knowledge tree.
Not a sad solitary boat of sand, on your egotistical sea.
I fully bow out, take my leave now and resign.
Plunging into tomorrow knowing, I must fall to begin the climb.

Author in review ‘Xavier Pérez-Pons’

 

If you have free time and are looking for something different, check out the mind extractions of Xavier Pérez-Pons. Some very interesting works and some short humorous pieces on his blog.

My two recommendations would be:

41A7gr+XWxL

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You can find his books on Amazon.
His presence on Goodreads.
And is soul is his own.

 

Universe to devour

Dreams ignite like a Chagall construction.
You and I, flying over rooftops. Exploding in colour.
I lay you down and crawl into your skin.
Kissing you intimately, feeling my way.
Your body entices and your heart entraps.
Yet it is your soul I’m after.
The bruised, damaged, fraying thing.
Shaking and asking to have life breathed in.
Frantically unable to be cupped in my hands.
It runs from me like a feather on the breeze.
Escaping like a Bharatanatyam movement.
Colours and light, burning my sad lonely grey into nothing.
Love on your fingertips, sticky from the centre of me.
Though this may be transitory, I give in and go under.
Falling for you again as the waves crash over.
Disappearing in such wonder and the perfumed smoke of you.
Coughing up clouds of devotion, and descending like the setting sun.

Salvation forest

This is what keeps me alive.
You drying on my skin.
Lobsters of the deep, snap memories for us to share.
For me to fish for.
Your tongue, a mind of its own.
I hope you don’t mind, that I describe you in such words.
But this is what I need.
A photosynthesis of love from sadness.
Breathing deep in me, swelling my soul.
Your Picasso honey, sweet blues of strung moments to fix.
A thorn in my side and iron lung around my heart.
Feeling you on my fingertips, presenting such possibilities.
A kiss will only do, to stain this skin.
Crawl into the space of your mind.
Where heart and head battle like warring gods.
Climbing mount Olympus.
Wax sticking, fear splitting into sweet tangible delight.
Strong roots that burst up toward the sky.
Like ghosts escaping a tomb.
Strange fruit that I hunger for, my teeth to bite upon.
Finding your heart at the centre,
I will kiss into recovery.
Restoring your pulse and transfusing our strength.
Into something eternal.
Breathe in this forest of salvation.
Return home.

Weathered cavort

Cold nights carry.
The message of existence.
On which fingertips we dance.
With death and the devil.
Such borrowed time.
In sweet sublime apathy.
We sleep each night.
While the storm rages.
Though cold nights make way.
For sultry dawns.
Which promise a ballet.
With hope and the angels.
On sweaty palms.
Open to a change of air.

Saint

You carried this heart, when it was aching and poor.
Dead to a world, that didn’t fit anymore.
Through rivers and dark, through pain and the trees.
You coated with love, and sucked out the diseases.
Now the day becomes night, and cold creeps on in.
Yet you keep me so warm, and you block out the sin.
And though tired yourself, you keep the fire burning.
As my eyes start to close, and the world keeps on turning.
Where there is horror, there is also a twinkling light.
In the image of you, that feels holy and right.
So we turn to you when, the need is the most.
When all that we feel, is the touch of a ghost.
Though sacred you are, I can reach through the soul.
And cover my eyes, in the divine to become whole.
Where once there was an empty space in this life.
You’re now nailed to my love, that cuts deep like a knife.
For you do not covert and keep for your own.
This love and redemption that lies in the unknown.
As I’ve seen you wash away all my fears.
In your kisses and whispers, and your golden light tears.

Cataclysm and collapse

Dipped in honey and gold, the future is sold.
Shimmering in the moon which tumbles to the earth.
Spread this skin out, count each cell.
Pick out the cancer and the coughing of indignity.
The devil licks at the wounds.
As angels weep sticky red tears.
I tremble in my state of knowing.
Feelings escape like weighted balloons.
Tomorrow stubs them with its cigarette days.
Covering us all in ash and despondency.
Where did the light go that shattered.
Who stole the hope that I hidden out of reach.
These day, this time; when all is lost and circles like a fish in pond.
Around nothing but the headache same as yesterday.
The truth is not stale, yet seems so familiar.
And time has run out, and so the world burns.
As I look into the eyes of change, I know now they are dead.
I know now, so are we.
A wreck in that pond where the fish swims in circles.
Collapsed and afraid.

Glass black box

A vibration stems from the soil, creeping up the path.
Into the bones and the brains, a humming remains.
What stains the insides like a smear of the past.
Just memories and bits of self.
I buried it all as the clock thundered.
As the skies exploded in a sea of lightening.
Veins cracking the heavens like the strikes across my eyes.
The box is glass and fragile.
The contents heavy and sad.
Black like tar and the sticky oil of failed dreams.
Colour is not needed, for no one is to see.
To bury is to put aside.
Covering it with mother earth who dies a little more each day.
Who will find it? I do not know.
But it lays there now, like my ashes will one day.
A pound of flesh, and tears of regret.
The cinders of wishes that were wasted.
Inside the box they can cry together.
Silently, as those above do not care to hear.
So with this lightened heart I move.
From the pines to the eucalyptus air.
Stumbling across the sands, where I fear other boxes may dwell.
Waiting to be smashed apart.
Or cracked like the fragile glass hearts of tomorrow.

Left Waiting & Other Poems

The Stories In Between

I just realized I haven’t mentioned my newest book since its release day.

Available in eBook or paperback from Amazon

Thank you to everyone who has already purchased a copy and if you haven’t left a rating/review on Amazon or Goodreads, I would really appreciate if you would take the time to do so.

Also, Potter’s Grove Press has set up a merchandise store over at Teespring.

Mugs, t-shirts, stickers, etc. Stop on by and have a look, if you so desire.

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Manifest the everyday nightmare

Partie un:

You motioned for me to quietly enter the room. I could feel the tenseness of the air. The walls seemed to contract and wrap themselves around me. You sat there with no expression on your face. That face, the one I had touched so many times. Kissed it, smelt it, longed to be near enough to it to count your eyelashes. Now it glared back at me like an empty pool. The lights began to flicker, stuttering out their watts in a rhythm I can only attune to the beat of your heart. The gun didn’t bother me, it was aimed at my head throughout but I knew this was all leading to something. The beginning of the end.

(I noted that it was aimed here and not my heart…maybe you’d finally figured out, there wasn’t one in this body of mine)

This part of the Jeykll and Hyde, this side of crazy. You asked me to sit down, the first time you’d spoken. Little daggers aimed at my ears, rushing with the blood and fresh thoughts to my head. You were so cordial, yet each word spat at me like kids on a council estate. I chose to stand, my one last defiance in our petty war. You told me there was something for me on the table, I looked down to see a wooden box.

You told me to open it.

This was not what I expected. Your look gave nothing away. Nothing except hurt burning from your eyes and an anger that could not by concealed. The box lay in a pool of blood, thick and viscous, floating on this horrific sea.

Deuxième partie:

Your eyes dared me to ask you what it was, like I didn’t know. The deluded pleas of the guilty, while all around the judges think of what punishment would be best fitting. The dying cat of curiosity rose and fell within me, and I turned away. I could not look, I could not commit to the ending so willingly. The metal felt cool against my temple, though it was your smell that made me aware of what you were doing. It crawled over me like the scent of the sea.

The gun clicked. I felt your soul near and shut my eyes, longing for you to turn my head and kiss me. Those days were long gone. A quick stab in the back. The knife that had, but till a moment ago, seemed mysteriously absent sent the tiny nerves in my body cascading like fireworks. Your mouth came close to my ear and you whispered the words I never believed you would utter. As if pulled from a dream.

(Truth is, you never said these three words with any conviction that would render it believable in the past, yet something told me this was the cold hard truth that my mind was digesting).

The sound of birds filled the room, and forced me to open my eyes. I turned and saw you there, eyes aflame and a soul locking its door forever on me. Never to be seen again by my pathetic searching pupils. Feathers fluttered down upon us as the ceiling filled with vultures, gathering and yearning with their hungry beaks. Their black hisses and calls split my ears. The box on the table flew open and out poured the remaining blood that flowed towards us like sticky lava. The contents bobbed on the surface momentarily before submerging into the crimson depths.

I sighed, you grabbed me and kissed me full on the mouth. You then sighed as I turned the gun and shot us both.

Partie trois:

No reasons, all feelings. Moving in a spaced state devoid of structure and responsibility. Bloody and weeping like the tears of a god. Wounds can split like the red sea. A hatred is awakened. After this, just indifference.

You watch as the violence hangs in the air. Feathers fly like tuffs of snow. Little teeth roll in my head like a stone in a can. A jingle like Christmas bells. The red of the season. How many times had you pulled that trigger? Which one of us started the fight? A rage had descended months ago. Welcomed in to the cold like a long lost cousin.

(If you were to ask me if love was still a figure in this theatre, I would have nodded a reply that confirmed my sad loyalty to the romance of death. Still, love can save the day right? Love is a weapon of choice.)

The room feels small and crowded. The bodies on the floor gasping for air and space. What died there that day, was only hope. Lust would always remain. Tragedy was the best re-frame for boxing that moment in our history. I pulled you off my skin, and spat out the tooth that had pierced my tongue. Like many words that came off as daggers, the tooth had left its bloody mark.

The box remained, the contents gone. Washed away in the crimson chaos. I would find it again, I was sure of that. But for now, agony and pain were to be swallowed and sanctified.

And as our ghosts left the room, stained in red, their heads hung down. Pulled by shame and gravity, wondering where it all began. Two little shadows quietly wept in the corner. Is this you and me, is this all the good that is left? Broken and crumbling in sad pathetic tears?

I would never know, because you shot them too.

‘Black Snow’ – Out now

She’d be back of course, she planned to return. But for now she had to make her escape, she had to move while there was still time.

Pulling the door silently shut behind her, she turned from her house that she had called home most of her life and made her way to her car. It would be a familiar trip, but time was not on her side. Even now she felt the chill in the wind whip around her face, the icy fingers finding their way to into her skull beneath the tissue and thoughts.

Snow….



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(un)Like treasure

You hold the keys to the sky.
An endless blue which promises forever.
I have the lock of an ocean.
Depths as deep and as cold as snow.
In dreams.
There is no harm.
But the mist rises on tomorrow and the sky darkens.
Don’t you want me to stay?
An honesty now hangs off the stars tonight.
The moon offers nothing at all.
Your eyes echo the voice of your heart.
A fleet, a fissure; a retreat to the start.
As the day breaks like a cracked egg.
Your clouds roll on.
Offering me the sweet glimpse of light that bursts from your mouth.
Forgiveness comes at a price.
And the treasure that’s paid was once in my depths.
Covered in sand and sadness.
It now glimmers in the morning dawn.
Melting over your eyes like the sky.

Black snow: Tales & poems in the snow drifts of life

(For Gina)

The snow rarely falls, and the coldness rarely touches the bones. Yet this is the wish of one who lives on the equator, longing for the white dusting. When it comes, it can be black or white. Light or dark. Little snowflakes created by circumstance. Too long has a black snow fallen, for once the real frozen landscape is coming.

Real snow is about to descend.

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OUT NOW